Lost in Translation
by Roo1965
Summary: 4th in series after Iraq, Blackbeard and Caught in the monkey jar. set in season 2 after Need, prisoners and gamekeeper. a WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Spoilers: Prisoners, The Gamekeeper, Need.Season: 2 

Sequel/series info: 4th in series after "Iraq- hounds of love sequence"," Blackbeard," "Caught in the monkey jar-Blackbeard interludes"

Summary: Things are a little 'hinky' after recent missions…. 

Author's notes: idea 11/11/2004. some notes july august 05, begun writing more in Nov 2005. stalled. More in Feb 06. stalled. July 2006. sept 06, revised Nov 06.

* * *

**Lost in Translation by Roo  
**

**PROLOGUE (current day – a week after Need…)**

General Hammond was worried about his elite SGC team. The Doctor was cautiously optimistic and Mackenzie probably had his doubts too.

It had been one hell of a ride lately and he wondered if Dr Jackson's recent addiction and the whole incident with the mines on Shayla's planet would be the preverbal straw to break their backs.

It wasn't that SG1 had abandoned Daniel in his recovery although the Colonel certainly must have 'issues'. Having a team mate turn on you with a gun while not exactly of sound mind wasn't in O'Neill's orders of the day. No, the Colonel had been there every step of the way for Daniel.

Things had not been 'quite' right for some time, now that he thought hard about it. Cracks had been expertly papered over by none other than his 2IC. He recognised the sticky fingerprints and the nonchalant 'everything's fine General'. But he noticed, hell he 'was' the General around here. He caught O'Neill's expression in unguarded moments and knew something was going on inside that head of his.

He thought back to the beginning of the recent run of 'bad luck'…

**SIX MONTHS EARLIER….**

_Jack- "I'm just going to assume you've never been in prison before?"_

_Daniel- "Oh right….and you have?"_

_Jack-"Oh, yeah. Any place like this has its own set of rules. They don't have to make sense. Linea's obviously done what she needed to do to survive. Just like we are…"_

They witnessed prisoners killing themselves in front of the Gate kawoosh. Only smoking boots were left, before someone grabbed them as prized possessions, something to barter with…

"That's terrible," muttered Daniel sickened.

"No, Daniel that's survival," said Jack bluntly.

"But to kill yourself like that…."

"At least it was quick," retorted Jack

"What! How can you say that?"

"That's reality here, the idea of escape gives them hope, that's all I'm saying."

Jack kept them safe, on track. Nothing happened to Carter or Daniel and nothing happened to anybody else either. So that was alright. He and Teal'c stayed alert and watched out for the other two. Daniel railing a bit because he didn't feel like a damsel in distress, but Jack knew he could be…so they didn't let their guard down. He sicced Teal'c on Carter. Figured his brawn would help deter any would be molesters to stay away. He kept Daniel sharp. Had to take his glasses off and thereby remove a source of weakness. Daniel still didn't get it, and he really didn't want to explain in detail…

The food was gross- but he expected that. God -the look on Daniel's face when the food chute opened. He told them to eat, they didn't want to. But he told them "We don't know if more is coming despite what the locals say."

The food did fill a hole but was pretty tasteless.

The whole situation made Jack jittery, prodding at shadows and demons best left undisturbed. Old habits raised their ugly little heads above the parapet…

Linea helped them to escape by powering the Gate and then back on base, used the SGC computer for her own ends. Jeez, what had they done setting her loose upon the world or worlds?

Nothing 'nasty' happened to Carter or Daniel apart from Daniel getting choked by that hulk Vishnoor. Carter held her own, but had still looked a bit mad at him for protecting her as well as Linea declaring her 'off limits'. What else was he supposed to do?! And he had a nice red ring round his own throat from being throttled with a thong, thank you very much, as a souvenir. Not that he would forget the place, you understand…

"Jack! Hey, you awake over there?" Daniel's slightly drunk yell reminded him that the gang were all here at his house. Post mission briefing, post mission infirmary tests and everything…just post…after.

Their resident archaeologist had had a beer or three, and now he was rummaging in the cupboards. What the heck is he doing now? Jack wondered.

"Gotta be something we can all play, not just chess….." Before Jack realised Daniel pulled out boxes from the cupboard- Scrabble, Chutes and ladders, Risk, Othello…

"Chutes and ladders, Jack?"

"What?"

"Found this in your cupboard with the other games. Oh." Daniel realised it looked several years old and battered. _Charlie's…_

Carter and Teal'c looked over in the silence that followed.

"Can play it if you want, Daniel." Jack said quietly trying not to abuse his sore throat.

Carter raised her eyebrows. 'Okaaay.' Something was going on but she couldn't figure out what it was. But if Jack agreed then it was okay.

So she and Daniel explained the rules to Teal'c and the evening passed and despite themselves they had fun playing the game. They didn't seem to notice that Jack wasn't interacting very much.

"I'd better be going, you too guys," said Carter, offering Teal'c and Daniel a lift.

Daniel began to put the board and pieces away.

"Leave it Daniel- I'll do it later," said Jack tiredly

"Sure, unlike you to leave things lying around. Mr Spic and span…"

"I said let it go, leave it."

"Huh?"

"Never mind it's late, Daniel. Go on home, shoo."

"Doesn't it bother you that we let the Destroyer of Worlds loose?"

"Sure it does, Daniel. Let's hope she doesn't come and bite us in the ass in the future," replied Jack grimly as he escorted them to the door and watched them drive off; watching long after the tail-lights disappeared.

He went back to the lounge but made no move to pack up the board game. Jeez, Chutes and ladders. Who'd have thought it? Snakes in the grass, snakes in the head- thoughts of Kawalsky and Carter although hers turned out to be a 'good' kind.

Prisoners….trapped, caught but innocent. Unlike the last time he'd been a prisoner. That damn board game. Life was like the ups and down of the board game, so his shrink had said. Take it one day at a time. Doc Marwood- hadn't thought about him or those four months of hell for quite a while. He had successfully come through his ordeal. He didn't want to dwell on it now for fk's sake. Back then he had Sara and Charlie to think about and they'd helped him.

This time he didn't have them. Okay, he had his team and they were good but they didn't know and he wasn't going to tell them. Over his god- damned very dead body he would. Bad enough that Doc Fraiser and the General knew.

**Current day - now**

General Hammond looked through the log books and knew that, that was when Colonel O'Neill's patterns began to change. Now that he was looking for it, a big hand waved 'hello, officer in trouble here…'. O'Neill coming on duty station earlier and earlier, leaving late. Lots of time in the gym and on the ranges… He flipped through the regular medicals, nothing that leapt out at you. Some weight loss, nothing wrong with blood or other levels or else Doctor Fraiser would have flagged them at the time. SG1 had seemed fine. He had put down O'Neill's occasional terse, snappy comments to being fooled by Linea, although Captain Carter blamed herself for that more than any of them as she had showed her the computers. And while O'Neill had a charming irreverent side, he could also be very intense and broody. Something was eating away at the Colonel. He remembered that the Colonel had put in for leave but had been turned down because of the Linea situation, training, paperwork and any number of logistical routine things that kept the SGC running….

The pattern wobbled then slowly returned to normal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lost in Translation by Roo  
**

**THREE MONTHS EARLIER...**

Hammond figured it was inevitable that the off world teams would come across something 'unreal' at some point. After all, even the Nox had hidden their abilities right to the very end, and even then only offered them a glimpse. And that glimpse had made Earth's technology look like they'd just climbed out of the trees and were still scratching their hairy butts and wondering what to do next.

This was a whole new ballgame. Game. Wrong word...right word. A virtual game using real people's memories for the satisfaction of a society that were being controlled by one man. A Keeper. The others hadn't realised that the real world had changed for the better outside. That they didn't need the artificial lives of others. And SG1 had become trapped in their net. Thank goodness they'd been able to realise from within the game and get out of it.

Alright they hadn't been physically injured. There was no blood spilled. Not like other entrances back though the Gate. He didn't like those returns, seeing people under his command injured and hurt.

No, this time two members of his team had been made to re-live particular events in their life. Hard, painful memories. It had been cruel and unusual. He could not imagine what it must have been like for Dr Jackson to relive the terrible day his parents had been killed installing an exhibit at the Museum when he was a child. And at least Colonel O'Neill hadn't had to relive the day his son died. Hammond mentally thanked benevolent deities for the near miss. But it was bad anyway you looked at it. A mission gone wrong and Jack's old team-mate Kawalsky must have been one hell of a surprise for the Colonel.

He sighed again and looked at the wall clock, he wished he could do more for them, but the truth was they could pass infirmary checks and do the psych tests and it still wouldn't fix things.

The General put his faith in O'Neill rallying the others to keep an eye on Dr Jackson and vice versa. But O'Neill would cope on his own, and in his own way as usual. He'd say he was fine and have a few beers at home. He had a niggling feeling that with Colonel O'Neill though, nothing would be as it seemed. Something was bound to come back and bite him on the ass.

Looking back on it later it turned out that the General was correct. It just took a little time to reveal itself. Call it coincidence or synchronicity, the end result was the same. A minor meltdown for Colonel O'Neill.

Jack sat in his office on the base. Memory was a tricky thing. You remembered stuff to survive, forgot the bad stuff because it was bad karma or because you'd survived it in the first place. You made new memories to replace old ones, less shiny good ones. And if things didn't turn out the way you hoped, you retold it so it was justified.

And some things were just part of a time you never wanted to remember and you buried them deep and dark and threw the key away. Sometimes they'd try and creep out but mostly they stayed right where you stuffed them in that box. And it worked- for long periods of time so that you '_forgot about them_' your mind skated over and right past them. Safe and sound. Move right along, nothing to see here….

God he'd been so young he'd forgotten. 1982, a Captain. How he'd looked up to Colonel Michaels. Kowalski godammit. Bittersweet for him to be there too. He felt real. But seeing Michaels die all over again several times had been all too real too. Nothing he did could change the outcome no matter how hard he tried and he hadn't tried too hard once he realised what was going on. Operation East Fly and good old Boris never did get rescued of course. Complete SNAFU and FUBAR.

Gamekeeper…

Bastards. Sick bastards.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. That phrase touched a cold sliver of memory crawling up his spine. Where had that come from?

1982

There was something else he should remember about that date but try as he might he couldn't get to it. Leave it for a while- it would come to him eventually.

He got up and shrugged into his leather jacket and went to meet Daniel at the elevators and persuade him to come back to his house, feed him pizza and beer and make him talk about things. If he got Daniel to talk then maybe he wouldn't have to. He had enough demons of his own. It was a Plan. And for that he needed to be on his own turf, so he'd nixed Daniel's apartment.

Daniel accepted the offer of company. Both were wrapped up in their own thoughts on the drive home through the relatively quiet streets of Colorado.

Suddenly Daniel leant forward and turned the radio on. Jack stared at him - guess it was _too_ quiet he thought. Daniel went up and down the dial trying to find something. The truck suddenly filled with the sounds of disjointed music, voices and static.

"Just pick a station and stick with it!" said Jack stiffly.

Daniels eyes flicked towards him. And back again.

"Sorry," Jack relented . Damn thought Jack "No it's okay really," he said as Daniel left the dial alone, a gritty soulful male voice and music filled the truck…

_Is it worth it?_

_A new coat and shoes for the wife?_

"Too quiet, thought it would help."

"Yeah I know what you mean," replied Jack.

_Soon we'll be shipbuilding  
Well I ask you  
The boy said 'Dad they're going to take me to task. But I'll be back by Christmas" _

"How did they know what memory to go for?"

"I don't know Daniel" answered Jack distractedly. Silence except for the music spilling into the truck….

_It's just a rumour that was spread around town  
A telegram or a picture postcard  
Within weeks they'll be re-opening the shipyards  
And notifying the next of kin  
Once again  
It's all we're skilled in  
We will be shipbuilding_

The words of the song began to fade in the truck, the DJ's voice drowned out suddenly by the loud squeal of brakes as Jack rocked the truck to a stop.

Daniel grabbed for the dash in surprise.

"What?" He turned round looking for trouble but only saw the car that had been behind them, its driver leaning on the horn and swerve round them yelling.

"Where did you learn to drive? Asshole!"

Daniel looked at Jack; he had one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other cradling his ribs. His eyes were tight shut.

"Jack? What's wrong? Tell me!" he ordered and he put his hand on Jack's on the steering wheel. Jack's eyes popped open and Daniel suddenly found himself pressed against the back of his seat with Jack pointing his personal weapon at his forehead. A few seconds, that's all it took…

"It's me Jack! Daniel. You're okay. Everything's alright." Daniel's heart pounded. The look on Jack's face was…intense. The radio blared an advert at louder volume and the spell was broken.

Jack blinked. The gun went. Daniel heard the snick as the safety went back on. Jack wiped his face with one hand, breathing heavily and swallowed hard.

"Daniel. So sorry….. I don't know what to say. I'll understand if you want to report it to Hammond or get off the team."

"What? No, No it's okay."

"No it isn't! I just put a gun to your head!" Jack yelled.

"Well better you than someone else right?"

"Jesus Daniel! Don't ever say that!"

"I trust you!"

"You don't know everything about me!"

"So, ah...was that a flashback?"

Jack should have known that Daniel wasn't going to give up on his quest for an explanation. "I guess so." He said quietly fiddling with the steering wheel.

"You guess so? Is that the best you can do?"

"It's been a crappy day, Daniel. Aliens messing around with our heads. Tends to freak me out you know." Jack muttered as they set off in the car again.

"Okay. Not been a barrel full of laughs for me either. But freaky -I'll go for that. Are you alright Jack? Can I do anything?"

"No." said Jack with finality.

"Umm do you know why that just happened?"

"Drop it Daniel!"

"I'm trying to help here…"

Jack sighed. "No idea. Something I was thinking about or heard maybe."

"Well we've both had some bad memories come back to haunt us today and I was looking forward to my pizza …so shall we continue,"

"Yeah. I guess so." he concentrated on getting home. A little discomforted that Daniel had to witness a flashback. Wasn't like he'd had one for years. He'd almost forgotten how they took over in an instant. No control. Like someone pushing a cosmic button._  
_

They got to Jack's house in one piece; Jack ordered the pizza and got out beer while they waited. Daniel thought that maybe if Jack had a few he'd loosen up and reveal something more about the man and soldier he'd come to admire.

Yeah right.

Like that was going to happen, but a guy could hope…

Like they both didn't have issues from the gamekeeper's sick little game.

He knew that's why Jack had buddied up with him tonight. Was he really that pathetic that he needed his hand holding? Feed the poor little archaeologist and get him drunk and he'd spill the beans…stop agonising and analysing ad finitum. He couldn't help it- that's the way he was. So far he'd kept it in, but he was close to losing it.

Or was it that Jack looked out for his team? Who looked out for Jack though? He wondered

Somewhere along the way Daniel lost track of the conversation, his fourth piece of pizza and exactly how many beers he'd had. Jack didn't seem to be over indulging, he wasn't relaxed, oh no. Daniel was the bug under the microscope.

Daniel realised his view of himself was depressingly correct. He was talking too much. And Jack had only said the same sort of things as at the debrief. Nothing new. No mention of the flashback in the truck.

Daniel talked about having to relive his parent's death over and over. The helplessness he'd felt as a child and today as an adult. The pain of loneliness when his grandfather didn't seem to want him. His grandfather had been too busy to have him as family. That had hurt badly. But in time he had got used to that too, he told Jack.

Time had smoothed the rough sharp edges of that memory and he had remained whole.

He was tellingly reticent about the various foster families. He felt he'd survived, made a name doing what he was good at, to be like his parents, because it was all he knew from his childhood upbringing.

He liked to think his parents would have been proud of his achievements. Didn't Jack agree? he asked drunkenly not waiting for an answer.

That was why the failure of his lecture- the one Catherine had seen him at, had hurt so much. He hit rock bottom academically that day. But it was also the day that led him to the Stargate program and he thanked his lucky stars for the new life and work he now had.

Jack sat opposite Daniel and watched and listened as his team-mate rambled on revealing more than he perhaps meant to due to the beer, but Jack felt the sneaky trick was worth it. Daniel needed to get it out of his system.

Voices nagged at the back of his head. Should he listen to them though that was the thing? He didn't dare relax with Daniel in the house, not after what happened in the truck already.

Jack nudged Daniel's foot, rousing him from his stupor.

"Wha..?"

"Come on, you can't sleep on the couch. You'll regret it in the morning."

"Time izzit?"

"0140."

Jack gave him a helping tug off the couch and made sure he made it up the steps okay to the bathroom and spare room. Jack sat back down. He listened as Daniel turned lights on and off, washed, bathroom noises. Door closed. Silence. Finally.

At last. He let out a breath.

Jack's hadn't wanted to be in his cups and have Daniel wander round his memories. He needed to find out what had triggered the episode in the car. He needed to know so he could deal with it, neutralise it or find some coping mechanism. Again.

Why now? He hadn't had one of those for a good few years. He wasn't that tired. Hadn't even been injured on the planet. Well not physically that is.

His psyche…that was a whole other ballgame. Damn, wrong word to use. He'd been stretched thin and bounced nastily in the past.

Germany. Operation East fly and good old Boris.

Jack hadn't thought about Colonel Michael's and his wife in years.

A mission went wrong and now re-lived. How could they play with people like that? Didn't they understand how painful it was to re-live people dying? And then encourage them to try and change it knowing it couldn't be undone. How long people were stuck doing this? Did they go mad?

He was tired beyond belief but didn't want to go to bed.

Sitting nursing half a bottle of Jack Daniels some time later he heard Daniel yell "Move, it's going to fall!". He rushed to the spare room and opened the door as Daniel yelled "No!" and sat upright.

General Hammond had given them the next day off but they had to report back to Dr Fraiser first thing when they got back on base. Just as well there was day in between; Jack thought the blood alcohol level would snafu some of her tests. But he reckoned he could claim a medical emergency. Besides, she was just worrying over possible side effects of being in the pods.

Captured. Ensnared. Prisoners.

Nope, nothing wrong. No side effects at all, doc. Honest. I'm fine.

Jack did the only thing he knew would work. Went running for hours, lots of bike work in the gym. He badgered Teal'c to spar with him or fight. And when he wasn't doing that he was on the fire arms range. He knew he was ruthless in simulations with the new recruits and managed not to cross any lines. In the boxing ring he gave no quarter either.

"Look- if you wanted to dance pretty, you should have joined the marines! You are not being taught boxing, you're learning to fight!"

He doesn't care if they hate him, just so long as they are still alive after a mission.

_Chris "Shit, man you got nothing. Thought you Americans had everything! Was looking forward to half inching your shiny kit. Bloody spoilt my illusions!"_

_Jack-"What the fuck are you talking about, Geordie?"_

_Chris-"Nicking your cool gear."_

_Jack-"Came in dark, just like you must have." He coughed and blood bubbled out of his mouth._

_Chris "Trying to save your life here, so I'll let you off explaining about Life the Universe and Everything, the number 42 and what **is **it with Yanks and peanut butter and jelly? That's just weird disgusting if you ask me."_

_Jack "Never asked you and **you're** weird, you know that you bloody Brit? What the hell are you still **doing** in here?"_

_Chris "Who the fuck knows what their little game is."_

_Jack "Tired." Bone tired, blood seeping ,burning pain. Seeking the relief of dark nothingness…_

_Chris "Oh, no you don't! Come on, stay with me Jack. Don't die on me man…Listen…did I ever tell you about my brother?"_

Disjointed images prodded him from desperate asleep. Woke up at 0400, lay there til 0500 and went in to work. Hammond signed in at 0700 and frowned when for the third day in a row O'Neill had signed in already. He did a bit more digging and phoning round and then went looking for his 2IC.

George Hammond acknowledged the surprised but sharp salute from the Sergeant at the range. No surprise the Colonel was there. The General put the ear muffs on. Hammond watched fascinated as Jack readied himself for a long shot, lying on the floor, going limp and relaxed before steadying his aim. The Colonel was much better with firearms than he'd ever been. He fired. He waited until the machine reeled the sheet back to Jack.

"Sir? General Hammond is there a problem?"

"No not unless you do son."

"What?"

"Can I look?" He asked gesturing towards the body sheet.

"Sure," O'Neill wasn't smug, just confident.

Perfect scores. No surprise.

"Looks good Jack."

Jack shrugged as he handed the earmuffs back to the duty sergeant, along with the long rifle.

"Never hurts to practice."

"So I see."

"You checking up on me sir?"

"Not particularly. Tell me, is there some threat I need to be aware of Colonel?"

"Ah..no sir."

"Then why are you here at the crack of dawn for the third day in a row?"

"Just practising."

"And the sparring and punch bag that's practise too?"

"Yes sir. And you are checking up on me General…"

"Bullshit Colonel and you know it"

"Sir?"

"Because I need to know that you and your team are 100. The Doctor and I can keep an eye on you Colonel; I only have to say the word. Is there anything we can do to help? Because if it's serious you know we might have to call on Dr Mackenzie."

"No sir. It won't affect my ability to do my job sir."

"Hmmm."

"It's personal sir. I'll deal with it."

"See that you do."

Jack seethed s he made his way to the locker room and showers. Busted. He should have known George was a wily old bird. Pushing the medical buttons wasn't nice of him. Okay, so he'd been given a warning. He just had to employ different tactics. Straighten up and fly right…

tbc  



End file.
